


The Fucking-Rules

by FortinbrasFTW



Series: Tumblr Prompts - Dragon Age [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Rimming, Spanking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortinbrasFTW/pseuds/FortinbrasFTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from Tumblr: "adoribull - spanking?"</p><p> <i>When he was fourteen, there had been a boy at the circle who used to keep them up all hours with chilling stories of Imperium children, snatched away in the night and held prisoner by the vicious monsters of the Ben-Hassrath. The beasts would keep them bound tight, thrown in a dank dungeon until they dragged them out again one at a time to be eaten for dinner. If he’d known then how close his ultimate future would come to that particular story, albeit in a </i>very<i> different context, he might have caught the nearest ship to Rivain and never looked back.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fucking-Rules

How the hell had he ever let it come to this? 

When he was fourteen, there had been a boy at the circle who used to keep them up all hours with chilling stories of Imperium children, snatched away in the night and held prisoner by the vicious monsters of the Ben-Hassrath. The beasts would keep them bound tight, thrown in a dank dungeon until they dragged them out again one at a time to be eaten for dinner. 

If he’d known then how close his ultimate future would come to that particular story, albeit in a _very_ different context, he might have caught the nearest ship to Rivain and never looked back. 

“Nervous?” Bull’s voice sounds behind him.

Dorian grits his teeth. “Shut-up.”

“Maybe that gag wasn’t a bad idea after all,” Bull muses.

“Could you do whatever wretched thing you’re intending. My knees are starting to cramp.”

Bull let’s out a low laugh, close, but still not touching him. Dorian can’t help shivering. 

“Such a little brat,” Bull murmurs. “You should remember the position you’re in.”

As if he could possibly forget the position he was in. 

Naked. Yes, alright, that much isn’t terribly concerning. He’s always been comfortable naked. He has far more to show off than to hide after all. Wrists tied. Not that shocking. He hasn’t gotten this far through life without at least a little exploring where that’s concerned. But when he’s done that before, he’s tended to be on his back, hands over his head, able to see whatever was about the befall him. And that’s really the part that’s making his nerves wind tight as a bow, isn’t it? The posture of it all.

He’s on his knees on the bed, hands bound in front of him to the headboard in a way that isn’t painful but is _very_ secure. The headboard’s high enough that it’s decidedly awkward to do anything other than sit on his knees, which leaves him feeling substantially exposed, and yes, alright, fine, perhaps a little nervous. And… if he’s entirely honest, altogether too hard already, considering Bull hasn’t so much as touched him. 

“Ready?” Bull asks.

“For what?” he can’t help asking.

“Rules,” Bull answers. Dorian can hear his bloody grin even if he can’t see him.

“Gods, the fucking-rules,” he can’t help sighing.

Bull’s closer, close enough to almost feel the heat of him. Or is he just imagining that? Dorian turns his head to look, but Bull snatches his hair firmly and turns him back to the wall. Dorian’s cock gives a treacherous jump at the feeling of his grip.

“You love the fucking rules,” Bull grins.

Dorian doesn’t answer, just waits, and tries to convince his knees to stop bloody trembling.

“Rule one,” Bull starts, easing fingers deeper into Dorian’s hair, hand just about the size of his own skull, “no looking.”

“What happens if I look?” Dorian asks, turning again with a smile.

Bull tightens his grip in his hair roughly. Dorian just manages to grunt an acknowledgement.

“Rule two,” he continues, “don’t make a sound.”

Dorian can’t help balking. “Excuse me?”

“Once I start. Don’t make a sound.”

Dorian rolls his eyes. “I’ll see if I can possibly resist.”

“You do that,” Bull says with a tone that suggests he knows far more about what’s going to make that rule a challenge, and gods Dorian’s positive he’s right.

“And I assume there’s a penalty for breaking that one as well.”

“You assume right.”

“But of course you won’t tellaAhHHhhh—“

Bull drags two very wet and very warm fingers from the base of his balls right up his exposed ass.

Dorian’s breath punches out of him in hard pants, already lost on one touch. He tries to focus, tries to remember what the bloody hell he was saying. 

“That’s the only one you get,” Bull smiles behind him.

Dorian wants to snap at him, wants to show him exactly what he thinks of his dirty absurd games. But for some reason his head is falling forward into a messy nod and his hips nudge back all on their own.

Bull gives a contented huff, and does it again exactly the same way.

The third time Dorian manages to bite down on the groan, even though Bull works his fingers back and forth over his entrance a few times before sliding down again. It’s good. It’s ridiculously damn good. He feels his lips part, hanging just open as he closes his eyes and rolls back into the touch. Bull picks up a rhythm, slow, _slow_ , but steady. Up and down. Up and down. And so damnably slow.

Bull drags down again, only this time when he slides back up, he lets his finger just press in just barely. Dorian feels a whine building in his throat but he swallows it firmly. The next stroke goes a little deeper, almost actually there. Dorian swallows firmly, trying not to rock back onto him too hard as he moves for the next slide, and then the hand is gone.

Dorian’s eyes open. He almost turns around, then thinks better of it. There’s nothing, no touch, no sound. For a moment. Longer. He opens his mouth when suddenly Bull’s tongue presses hot and firm against him.

The shocked groan shoots out of Dorian without warning, taking even him by surprise. He tries to stifle it down but there’s no helping the whine it falls off into as Bull finishes one long lick before pull back.

“Hey- rules.”

Bull’s hand falls hard and fast across Dorian’s arse. 

The blush shoots into Dorian’s cheeks with vicious ferocity. He let’s out a hiss that might be more of a snarl. A loud one. Too loud. Bull does it again, and this one smarts sharper than the last. 

Ten different barbs swell on Dorian’s tongue but he locks them all back behind gritted teeth, trying to pretend he isn’t impossibly twice as hard as he was for that little antic.

“Good,” Bull huffs behind him. His voice has gone deeper, rougher. Dorian’s sure if he could turn around he’d see he was just as aroused as he is by all of this nonsense.

Dorian tries to catches his breathe again. His arse is still tingling with pins of sensation, which is nothing to the deeper pulse of nothing but _need_ between his legs. 

Bull’s mouth is on him again sooner than he expected, and this time it’s hungrier. Dorian just manages not to gasp, a heavy shudder rippling down his body. Bull laps at him, one long pass after another, until his massive hands find Dorian’s hips, tugging him back as his tongue plunges in.

Dorian snatches his bicep in his teeth, shutting his eyes so tight he thinks he actually sees a pop of light behind them. But gods, _gods_ , how the hell is he supposed to manage this, how is he ever, possibly.

Bull lets out half a groan himself behind him, at the tenseness of Dorian’s muscles, the inescapable shivers and shudders coursing through his limbs, the sound of his breath jagged and raw, caught between his teeth and the flesh of his arm. One of Bull’s fingers slides in all too easily, and he pulls his mouth away, adding a second finger, curling it up and—

“Maker-“ Dorian gasps, lips shocked open, wet and raw from where he’s bitten his own arm to the point of soreness.

Bull growls, hand increasing in speed and accuracy as his open palm comes down hard with a sharp sound.

Dorian’s knees are going weak under him. He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep this up. His cock is hard to the point of painful, bobbing helpless and strained between his legs. The tight, desperate need of it is increasing in sharp waves, growing so quickly that he’s afraid he’s going to come, just like this, all too soon, lost and dizzy on the absurd, wild, rolling pleasure of it all.

“Gods, Bull-“ he can’t help groaning.

Bull huffs, slapping him again roughly. Dorian moans without thinking in response and Bull does it again. And again, just for good measure, or perhaps he simply can’t help himself. He’s three fingers in now, working him open in steady rapid thrusts that have Dorian’s forehead prickling with sweat and his cock leaking between his legs.

Bull pulls back all at once. Dorian’s eyes drag open, lost in a haze of arousal and the dull pain.

He can hear Bull’s breath behind him, heavy, and animalistic. He knows he is practically panting, and what else can he do? He tries to focus, tries to take this moment without touch to get ahold of himself, to keep it together. He’ll never hear the end of it if he comes like this, groaning and sobbing as Bull smacks him sore.

He feels Bull’s hands on him again first, sliding up either side of his hips. Dorian shuts his mouth firmly, hands gripping even tighter to the headboard. Bull’s hands slide around his firm arse, touch surprisingly smooth, comforting, easing the pain away in easy strokes. Dorian’s heart slows in his chest, albeit just a beat or two. He lets himself breath two or three steady breathes. Bull’s hands rub, deep, and long. Before Dorian realizes what’s happening those hands spread him open and Bull’s solid cock slides up the line of his arse.

Dorian chokes down a whine. The feeling is quite possibly the most taunting thing he could imagine. Bull doesn’t push into him, doesn’t even start, just eases up and down the wet warm space, tracing him in smooth, indulgent strokes. Dorian can’t imagine what they look like at this moment. Well, actually he can imagine it, and that’s the problem isn’t it, imagining isn’t nearly enough. He can almost see the impossible length and girth of Bull easing up, between the raw cheeks of his arse. Bull’s great hands, tight and locked, rocking him back with each stroke. Maybe that’s all he’s focused on. Dorian can’t say he’d be able to see anything else if he were in his position. Maybe he won’t notice, and _god_ he wants to look, he wants to take that picture into his dreams and stumble into sleep in frozen tents half way across the world desperately working himself to the memory of it.

He looks over his shoulder. 

He’s right. Bull can’t seem to help staring. He’s watching with lust-hazed eyes, the slow and steady drag, the way Dorian’s hips shake and erratically jump back towards him all own their own, desperate to be worked deeper, further, after such teasing. 

He’s positive he’s gotten away with it when Bull’s hand snatches at his hair all at once. He drags Dorian back hard and at the same time shoves his cock in deep and fast.

Dorian’s convinced he’s going to come, right then and there. He grinds his teeth together frantically, something flaring inside of him. He can’t help it, the energy has to escape somewhere. Just as he manages not to spill across the sheets the binds around his wrist burst into sudden flame. 

Bull let’s out a shocked sound as Dorian’s arms snap free. Any surprise is gone in almost the same moment as Dorian falls back hard against his chest, one hand locking tight to a horn as he thrusts himself back onto Bull’s cock with hard purpose, and that’s all it takes.

Bull’s hands lock to his hips, lifting him up and down as if he weighs nothing, less than nothing, sliding in, and out, deeper, harder. Dorian can feel the tightness, deepening, scalding. Bull brings him down at just the right angle and the groan shoots out of Dorian’s chest. Bull’s teeth snatch at his shoulder with one last attempt at rebuke and Dorian’s coming, hot and fast. It doesn’t take Bull long to follow. Dorian feels his breath go tight against the curve of his shoulder, hips jerking and jolting on his with one final shove as Dorian feels the warmth spread deep and thick inside of him. 

Bull doesn’t let him go. They stay there for a long moment, Dorian collapsed against his chest as Bull kneels on the bed. He runs one hand up the side of Dorian’s neck, working gently into his hair as he tilts his head to one side, eyeing the bite on other shoulder.

“Damn. I hope this is the one you keep covered.”

Dorian hums. Every bit of him feels loose and raw all at once. He’s so well fucked he can’t even bring himself to care. “I don’t.”

Bull laughs low and rough against his neck. 

“Next time,” Dorian starts.

Bull kisses his throat messily, sleepily. “Mmm?”

“I’m making the rules.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts still open on my tumblr: http://fortinbrasftw.tumblr.com/ask


End file.
